


Seeds of Discord Part 21

by kbj1123



Series: Wonder Woman & Captain America [22]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Wonder Woman - All Media Types
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Crossover Pairings, F/M, One True Pairing, Sexual Content, Superheroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 12:47:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3382055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kbj1123/pseuds/kbj1123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone or something is causing violent riots to erupt all over the U.S., and whatever it is, it wreaks havoc with both Wonder Woman's health and Bruce Banner's ability to keep his rage in check.</p><p>The Avengers assemble and make their way to rescue Bruce from The Concordance Group.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seeds of Discord Part 21

What’s left of the team is already in the van that evening when it comes for Diana and Steve. An agent introduces himself, salutes Steve, and loads up their bags. The van lurches onto the street before they even situate themselves. From the back, The van is set up more like a mobile strategy room than a van. The seats form a U-shape around three sides, except for the sliding door on the passenger side of the vehicle. There is a table in the middle, on which a map of a container yard is spread. Without greeting them, Natasha points to the northern quadrant of the map and states, “We’re pretty sure Bruce is being kept here. The riots radiate out from that point.” She draws imaginary lines out from a structure in a cone shape.” 

“And good day to you too,” Steve replies as he glances down at where Natasha points. She ignores him and continues the information download: they are heading to Delaware, where SHIELD scientists have correlated larger concentrations of civilian violence with high levels of gamma radiation energy. “It’s likely this is where Concordance is experimenting on Bruce,” Tony adds. “The question is what the end game is all about…and welcome back to active status,” he adds, nodding to Steve. Steve nods back, and then watches as the buildings of his neighborhood disappear in the fog and snow: bare, bent trees that line the sidewalks, brownstones covered with layers of salt and dirt. He focuses on the faint stripe which winds before and after them, leading them away from all the comforts and anxieties of home, into the infinity of gray sky, gray earth, gray road. 

“I have a theory about that.” Diana’s voice draws him back into the here and now. She folds the map over and pulls a sheet of blank newsprint from a drawer under the table. With a marker, she makes a large circle. She loops another one over it, creating a Venn diagram. In one circle, she writes, “Dionysus,” and then “chaos;” in the other, “Apollo” and “order.” She says, “You already know this bit from my report to Maria, just before Steve and I were put on temporary leave. I understood this from when I was taken by the lesser gods.”

Clint interrupts, “You were kidnaped by gods?”

“You should’ve seen the escape,” Steve tells him. You would’ve turned in your quiver and bow and retired.” The van is dry and hot with recycled air. He worries about Diana overheating again, even though it hasn’t been a problem over the last few days. He looks around for a window to crack open, thinking even fresh freezing air would improve the thick, stale atmosphere. 

Diana appears unaffected. She continues her explanation. In the Dionysus circle, she writes, “chthonic forces, excess, emotion, unconstrained lust/procreation, inclusive, frenzy.” Tony grins. “Nothing wrong with most of that!” On the Apollo side, she writes “rationality, reason, temperance, ethics, separation, science, strategy.” Then she looks at Tony and says, “Do you not value this as well? Which do you prefer? This is the human side of a fight among the gods themselves. We are pawns.” In the small connecting circle, she writes, “freedom.” She places her finger on the word and says, “These are the forces at work, and this is what is at stake. The Concordance Group took me because I am too much of an anomaly for their ends; I have too much self-control. It is also why Apollo and Artemis helped free me. They took Bruce because he is easier to control. They can use him as an example of the triumph of anarchy over order. They plan to use him to tilt the scientific and rational bent of current humankind toward the emotional and mystical.”

Tony frowns. “Control one variable to create too many others to control, and then let the world sort itself out. Interesting theory.”

“So what you’re telling us,” Clint says, “is that the Concordance Group is the human and corporate face of some ancient cosmic war of ideologies?”

Steve nods. “Aren’t most wars redundant, at least on some level?”

Two hours into the ride, Steve has carefully planned an attack and rescue strategy, and from then, it is a matter of patience. He closes his eyes and leans his head back on the seat. “You really are the most immodest person I’ve ever met,” he hears Natasha say with a touch of admiration. He feels Diana shrug next to him. He opens his eyes halfway and looks over at her. She’s stripped down to her running bra and uniform leggings. “There’s no embarrassing her,” he agrees, shutting his eyes again. “It’s hot in here,” Diana replies. He knew he’d been right to worry. As if reading his mind, she squeezes his hand and tells him, “I’m okay.”

“Hey, you’re not getting any complaints from us,” Tony says. “Can you lean across the table and hand me a pencil, Diana?” Clint adds. Without opening his eyes Steve says, “You’re not getting a rise out of me. I’m used to it.” He focuses on the sound of the van slowly pushing against the storm. The tires of this SHIELD-issued van are thick, and the treads hug tightly to the slippery road beneath them. They are skating rather than driving, it seems.

He hears Natasha whisper something to Diana, and the two women laugh. Diana whispers something back and they laugh even harder. A few moments and several exchanges later, he knows that they’re both crying from laughing so hard. When they calm down, he looks around the table. Tony looks amused and curious; Diana and Natasha look directly out the window as if making a point of not making eye contact. “As happy as it makes me to hear you laugh, I can’t help feeling a little paranoid right now.” Diana folds her arms on the table and drops her head down, cracking up again, which starts Natasha again. “We probably really are better off not knowing, buddy,” Tony tells him.

Four hours into the drive, almost everyone is asleep. Natasha is curled up in the corner against the window, propped up on her balled up jacket. Steve takes out his phone and snaps a picture of Tony and Clint leaned into one each other, mouths agape, snoring. “What were you two whispering about?” he finally whispers. Diana smiles slyly. “Are you sure you want to know?”

“Uh, yes?”

“She dared me to do come up with something that would make you blush, like I did when we were first intimate in our relationship—before you made up some rules.”

“Oh dear god, please don’t.” Just the idea of it makes his skin prickle, and he shudders. Diana kisses his cheek and places her hand on his thigh under the table. “Relax,” she assures him. Given her hand’s position on his thigh and the way she has begun to massage it, relaxing seems ill-advised. 

Several moments pass quietly, save for a few light snores from fellow sleepy Avengers. The dull air and engine’s hum lulls Steve to relax in spite of himself. He could rest if not for his wife’s hand, which has crept up to his hip crease. Diana may or may not realize her own casual strength, but he suspects she does. Even though he is wearing his protective Captain America gear, he still feels the light pressure of her fingers brushing just near his groin. “What are you thinking about right now?” she asks quietly. “Baseball statistics, license plates that belong to New Jersey cars on the road, stuff like that.” She kisses him again. “Are you bored?”

“I’m trying to be bored.” He isn’t sure how much pleading there is in his voice, rather than the steadiness he’s aiming for.

Diana yawns and lays her head down on his lap. “Very well then.” He feels her relax, and even though she hasn’t moved her hand, at least she is perfectly still. He settles back and relaxes his shoulders. He places his hand over his wife’s head and calls her “my sweet angel.” 

“I’m not asleep, she replies quietly. She turns to look up at him and, to his relief, moves her hand further away from a very sensitive place. “And I’m not an angel. What is an angel but a sexless entity that only indirectly exists in the world? Don’t call me that—I don’t like it. I don’t want to be an angel. I am a woman. We both prefer it that way, furthermore.” Steve moves his hand to cup her face. “A woman that may not be good at embarrassing me,” he says, “but never ceases to throw me for a loop. Okay, I’ll do my best to remove the word from my lexicon of affection,” he whispers back smiling. “Admit that you take my better, considerate nature for granted.” He stifles a laugh. “You don’t have a vindictive or ignoble bone in your demigoddess, ANGELIC body.”

She rests her head in his lap again, and murmurs, “You’ll be sorry.” He grins and leans his own head back on the seat. The van slowly lurches along. He watches the cars creep along as snow and ice blow across the highway. The rhythm of the van’s slow traction on the road lulls him if not into sleep, then at least into deep rest. He isn’t sure how long it takes him to realize that he’s actually clenching Diana’s braid in his fist, or that it is not the friction of tires on the road that is causing his body to move. “Diana,” he whispers, “what do you think you’re doing?” No reply. “I know you’re not asleep,” he quietly mutters between his teeth. No reply. 

“Okay,” he thinks, as he stares out at the mile markers. “Lou Gehrig. 1937. 157 games, 700 plate appearances, 569 at bats, 200 hits, just please don’t undo my pants if you’re gonna keep your hand there. World Series at bats, 4 hits, 5 runs, no, wait, other way around. This isn’t working. His brain wants to shut off and he is quietly mortified. Buddy Hassett. 137 games, 595 plate appearances…nope.” He gives up. “Okay, you win,” he hisses. You’re still very capable of giving me public grief, are you happy now?” He groans softly and swears revenge. She remains silent, but gently pats the bulge in his pants. 

“Hey Steve, where’d Diana go? Is she up front now?”

“NOWHERE!” he insists, a couple octaves higher than he’d meant. He plops both hands onto the table. He’s sure his neck and face are as red as they are hot. Diana yawns and says “Quiet down, some of us are trying to get some rest!” He moves his hand to her cheek and traces the letter “A” for “angel.” She sucks his index finger into her mouth and gently bites down. “Y’know,” Steve says. I think an old buddy’s UNCLE used to live near Dover back in the day. From one seat over, he can swear he hears Natasha chuckle. Or maybe he’s just paranoid; either way, he and Diana were going to have another little discussion later.

Outside, the night has gone black. Wet snow pellets the car and the road, reminding Steve of a moving attack. For a moment, he is almost in Europe again. It might be 1940 again, but Diana is next to him and has just whispered “truce,” and his comrades in arms are looking over the map and attack plan again. He turns away and makes a clear circle on the fogged glass. He looks outside to the upcoming tollbooth that leads to the Delaware Bridge.


End file.
